"Me either," he admits, not wanting her to think he had pined for her. Though maybe he had, in his own naive way. But then she's asking him that and clinging to him in such a way that has him falling apart all over again. He was always better at doing than speaking, especially in these contexts, but she's so adamant and frankly the idea of divulging his secret whims to her is sexy as hell. He's pretty sure she thinks so too.

Steeling himself, he shifts against her again so she can feel the solid weight of his erection now, fully formed. He likes being trapped against her this way, like he was this morning, the more he told himself the stand down the more aroused he had become. Tony fits his lips to her ear, knowing he isn't capable of saying these things and make eye contact. His hand seeks out her waist beneath her shirt, similarly gripping on while he begins, almost like he's telling a fairy tale.

"It always starts the same way. You... You're waiting for me, in my room." He hesitates, already embarrassed, but somehow that's sexy too and he's able to go on. "You're wearing lace--and leather. Your hair's in a ponytail, and you look at me like... Like I belong to you." His breath is already coming in quick pants, hand convulsively squeezing around her hip bone. He pauses to kiss her jaw, just below her ear, an almost desperate press of lips before returning to his place. "I kneel down and crawl the rest of the way to you, until I feel your fingers in my hair..."